I come from a line of Irish slaves. We had to eat potatoes for years. Then we came to America and joined a gang in New York city. My uncle Shamus killed an opposing gang member with a fire poker earning the nickname Po. Eventually my family had to go into hiding adding an e on the end of our name hence the name Poe. Later that century a young alcoholic poet arrived on the scene, once again bringing the family name to the forefront. Many think my great uncle Edgar died drunk in the snow, when actually it was a conspiracy set into action by the family of the rival gang aforementioned. Now it is my duty to uphold the name and seek revenge. I will find my uncle's murderer, and when I do he better not have a fireplace thats all I'm saying.
